Just south of the Friends’ property is the little chapel of the Greek Catholic body which claims a few people of Râm Allâh, and just south of that runs a little path, through the vineyards, called the _Ṭarîḳ el-Majnûny_, _The Road of the Crazy One._ One of the old men told how in former years along that road the oak woods were so thick that a cat could not pass, and that if a piece of bread were dropped from above, the thickness of the foliage would prevent it from reaching the ground. This is interesting as pointing to traditions and to the kind of figures used by the natives in descriptions. And so our neighborly resources continued. We gratefully acknowledge that the best lesson that we learned during our intimate acquaintance with the village community was that, joined with varying accidents of speech, dress and advantages, human beings are much alike everywhere and possess many admirable traits. To the westward of Râm Allâh there begins with an abrupt head the Wâdy Ṭarafîdya, which runs nearly north and south and leads to Wâdy el-Kelb. One of the paths to ‛Ayn ‛Arîk bends around it. Just under this path to the eastward, between it and the wâdy, is a little spring, ‛Ayn Ṭarafîdya. Most of the land hereabouts has been purchased by Râm Allâh people of Baytûnyeh, the latter reserving the spring and some olive land. The taxes are paid through Baytûnyeh. Forty-two feet down from ‛Ayn Ṭarafîdya is a reservoir with thick, heavy stone walls, the corners being at the four main points of the compass. The northeast wall is ninety-seven inches thick and the northwest wall sixty-six inches thick. The reservoir is nearly forty feet square. The southeast wall inside is forty feet long and the northeast wall lacks three inches of the same measurement. There is a broken descent into the old dry pool at the west corner. I was here on a soft, gray December morning when the sky was hung with ready clouds. There was a sweet quiet under the olive-trees. The earth was red beneath. The black wet trunks and moss-covered branches showed through the gray-green mantle of the trees like a core through filigree. On one side of the valley the steep wet cliffs were decked with Christmas green. On the other side were terraces holding leafless fig-trees that stretched up their many fingers like candelabra to the mist. Down through the valley were seen round, stone watch-towers with brush tops. Pink daisies, narcissus, the little white and lavender crocuses and creepers were already showing. In the tiny scrub-oaks were twining green leaves.